


Libertas's Lullaby

by Rowena_Bensel



Series: Liberty and Light [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Childbirth, Implied/Referenced Mech Preg, Inspired by Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25652113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowena_Bensel/pseuds/Rowena_Bensel
Summary: "...And one day, when you can defeat me, I will send you after your traitor sire. And you will rip the Matrix from his chest, and you will be Libertas Prime, and lead Cybertron to freedom, for that is your name.”This was not a wish. It was a vow, a promise.
Relationships: Megatron & Original Cybertronian Character(s), Megatron & Soundwave (Transformers), Megatron/Orion Pax
Series: Liberty and Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061873
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	Libertas's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> This was a plot bunny that bit me while listening to Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale, and there is to be more of this verse, however I do not know when, as that is to be a multichapter fic with a lot of emotional drama. So for now, I hope you enjoy this fic!

The emergence was the hardest and most painful thing Megatron had ever experienced, and at the same time, was the most fulfilling. 

The secluded medbay, soundproofed and blast shielded, had been prepared for this day, and as soon as he has felt the first signs of it, he had been rushed there with all haste. The process itself, when it finally started, had been over quickly, but it had hurt worse than any injury he’d had in the Pits, and the pain still lingered. But when Soundwave placed the silvercloth-wrapped sparkling on his chest, all of that, all motion and life in the room faded away. All his attention was focused on his son. 

He had been cold constructed, and even his first frame of the mines had been large; it was hard to comprehend that something so small had come from him. Barely larger than both his servos, the sparkling was shiny silver and purple protoform, with just the barest hintings of armor currently, but it would harden and form in the next few orn. On the top of his helm were little sensory panels, like the ones tucked away under Megatron’s own helm, and one day he’d forge a matching one for his sparkling. Any Decepticon who saw the two would be hard pressed to not claim Megatron hadn’t just had Shockwave clone him an heir. 

But, for all the similarities, the sparkling still carried signs of his sire. After all, Megatron did not have blue optics with telescopic lenses, and the sparkling’s spark had been a bright blue, very different from his own verdant green. No, those traits belonged to the one mecha who Megatron swore would never know of the sparkling’s existence. Or at least, not until the very end, when the Matrix was ripped out of his chest. 

Looking down, Megatron found himself falling into memories, of a time that seemed long ago, and yet was not long at all….

_ [Is this Megatronus? My name is Orion Pax, and I am an archivist and data clerk in the Iacon Hall of Records. I came across one of your speeches, and wanted to discuss the points you rose.] _

_ He raised a brow at the message and was hovering his thumb over the delete button when he paused. The Council had tried similar tracts before to try and lure him into a trap, but this did not feel like that. He could tell, in some innate sense like how he could sense weak points in the mines or his enemies’ armor, that this was genuine. Someone from Iacon truly had listened to his words, and wanted to discuss them, not brush them off as ravings of a madmech.  _

_ So he drafted a reply. [I am always happy to debate with someone who will challenge me. What was it you wished to discuss?] _

_ A response was quick in coming. [You mentioned the casualty statistics in the mines, and when I compared them to the official records, they were way off. How was it you got your numbers?] _

_ [Experience.] _

_ That simple conversation lasted for several joors, until Megatronus had to end it to rest before a match. When he informed Orion of this, his reply surprised him. _

_ [Might we speak more tomorrow?] _

_ He could not respond for almost a klik. [Yes. Use this frequency again, Same time.] _

_ [Wonderful. Until then, Megatronus.] _

“My lord.”

Megatron looked up to see the medic, some garishly painted mech whose name he couldn’t even recall, was nervously wringing his servos. “Yes?”

“There were some… unique readings, regarding your heir’s spark. It’s nothing bad! But, his spark is extraordinarily bright, and the frequency…. And coupled with his optics, they’re- I- I believe they are Signs of Affinity.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed. “Is that so?”

“Not- not that it’s a bad thing, my lord!” the medic quickly back tracked. “I mean- it- it just means a potential chance of  _ Primus apotheosis _ when he’s older, but there is no way you would allow that to happen. And- and of course this can be kept completely confidential. No- no one ever needs to know.”

“You’re right,” Megatron said, as the medic wrung his servos. “No one need know.”

Before the medic could register the shiink behind him, his throat was pierced from behind. He jerked, and started to reach for the blade, before slumping and collapsing, his energon pooling on the floor under him. Deadlock looked down at the body, then back up at Megatron. 

“He talked nonsense. Every mecha on this planet know that Soundwave is the sire.”

Megatron nodded. “Excellent work, Deadlock. If you could dispose of him.”

“At once, my lord.” Deadlock sheathed his blade, then grabbed the medic’s body and hauled him out of the medbay. As always, Soundwave watched in silence, before turning back to Megatron. 

“Sparkling: will need visor.”

“We will handle that when it comes,” Megatron said, turning his attention back to his son. He trailed his digit across his face, and when the sparkling started rooting after it, he transformed the tip to expose the feeding line his frame had developed over the carriage. “But that medic did raise a point. Signs of Affinity are quite rare.”

“Signs: Simply myth. Orion: never displayed signs even if real.”

“Didn’t he?” Another memory swirled behind Megatron’s optics. 

_ “What’s this place?” Orion had asked, as they walked through Kaon together and were passing a walled area that was different from the buildings.  _

_ “That was an old exit of the Well,” Megatron explained. “No newsparks have come from it in almost seven vorn, so the Guilds walled it off and retreated to the main Well. Not that the wall stops the determined.” _

_ “Determined?” Orion looked up at him, and their height difference was not so significant, but his innocent optics made it seem much more.  _

_ “Some mecha bring the spark chambers or crystals of their loved ones and throw them down the Well; both a memorial and a hope of restarting it.” He rolled his optics, finding the superstition ridiculous. _

_ “Interesting.” Orion reached out and touched the wall. “Mind if we take a look? I don’t think I’ve been near any Well exit since my own creation. Pit, I don’t think Jazz has even seen one.” _

_ Megatron considered saying no and walking away, but the brightness of Orion’s optics, the tilt of his audial fins as he stared stopped him. Instead he led Orion to the portion of the wall used by mourners, and they spend half a joor walking around the dead Well.  _

_ The next day, five younglings were found trying to make their way over the wall, and Megatron entrusted their care to Barricade and Silvermaille. Megatron had a suspicion, but bushed it down as just a coincidence.  _

“Querry: If Sign-Sensitive, what is the plan for him?” Soundwave’s question broke him from the memory. 

Megatron looked down at his sparkling, whose optics had closed as he fed. So much like himself, but with heritage of a Prime. A  _ true _ Prime, if Autobot propaganda and his own spies were to be believed. 

“The medic warned of Primus apotheosis as being possible in his future. Perhaps we ensure it.”

“Megatron: will  _ not _ inflict a personality disorder on his sparkling.”

Megatron couldn’t help it, the absurdity of the line, made him laugh, loudly and from deep in his tanks. If he had heard it a vorn ago, maybe half a vorn, he would have considered such a phrase nonsense and ignored the mecha. But now- now it was real. There was a sparkling, and he could inflict a personality disorder on them. He could do that, or he could train them to fight, or he could lock them away so none could harm them, or-

He cursed the unstable carrier coding as his laugh turned to sobs, and he clutched the sparkling to his chest. Soundwave’s servo rested on his shoulder, and almost unbidden, another memory rose up.

_ Orion rested his servo on his shoulder just before they left his apartment in Iacon, where Megatron had stayed the night in preparation of the meeting. Megatron turned to look at him. “After today, everything is going to change,” he said. _

_ Megatron nodded. “Yes, it will. Are you prepared for it?” _

_ “I am if you are.” And his smile was so soft that Megatron couldn’t resist leaning in for a kiss, which Orion returned. If they’d had more time, maybe they would have fragged, but they didn’t, and besides, they had merged sparks the night before, and a victory frag would feel even better than a quick frag against the wall.  _

_ They arrived at the Council chambers, and with Orion and Soundwave’s encouragement, he stood before them and gave his speech. He told them exactly what would happen if they didn’t tear down their rusted system and name him the Prime. He would tear it down himself, with the full force of the lower castes behind him.  _

_ “Is that the only way?” High Councilor Halogen had asked him. _

_ Megatron had been about to answer, but- _

_ “No, it’s not!” Orion had called out from behind him. And he spoke not of revolution, but of a slow gradual change. A change the Council could and would delay for as long as they wished, and likely refuse to complete should anything happen to Orion. His spark turned in his chamber as Orion stepped past him to the speaking platform, confident in a way that he’d not seen before. A look up at the Council, and he saw secret smiles being shared. And he knew. He knew this was planned.  _

_ “You make an excellent point, Orion Pax,” Halogen said. “The Council has made a decision. We declare you to be our next Prime. From now on, all will know you as Optimus Prime.” _

_ Orion’s optics and field read surprise, but Megatron would not be fooled. No, Orion must have known. How long has Orion been a traitor? Was it recent, or from the beginning? Was their relationship - their love - a mere stepping stone on his way to power? How much of the movement has been betrayed? _

_ “You’ve used me.” _

_ Orion -  _ Optimus _ \- turned toward him, and shook his helm. “Megatron, no! I do not want this.” _

_ “You’ve used me and my movement, my charisma, to get here. To assert  _ your _ control over the people.” _

_ “I do not want to control them!”  _

_ “Lies!” He turned to the Council, furying burning in his optics. “The Council calls you Prime? I defy them! I lead the Decepticons of Cybertron, and I fight for the freedom of all cybertronians.” _

_ “You will yield!” Halogen said. “This is not your bully pulpit, Megatron-” _

_ He never finished, for Megatron used his fusion canon to blast a hole in his chest. When the guards surrounded, Optimus ordered them to stand down, and Megatron’s anger just grew.  _

_ “One day,  _ Optimus _ , that Matrix will be mine, and you will regret breaking faith with me.” He turned away from them all. _

_ “Megatron!” He could hear Orion’s - Optimus’s - call, and the clatter of mecha moving, but not once did he look back.  _

_ He and Soundwave returned to Kaon and prepared for war. A decacycle later, he learned he was carrying, and while he so wanted to extinguish the newspark, to extinguish  _ any _ connection between him and Orion - Optimus - he couldn’t. Not when it was his  _ last _ connection to Orion, the last thing of the mech he loved.  _

He calmed himself, and looked down at his sparkling. He had drunk his fill, and seemed to be settling down for a nap, optics closing and nuzzling against Megatron’s chest. Love swelled in his spark, and he adjusted to bring his son closer.

“Sparkling: name?” Soundwave asked. 

There was only one name in his mind; a name he and Orion had shared, in the middle of the night not long into their relationship, but which no others knew. 

“Libertas. His name is Libertas.” 

Soundwave nodded. “Soundwave: will inform the High Command. Return: soon.” His servo squeezed Megatron’s shoulder and his tight-leashed EM field flashed once with congratulations-pride-praise, before he left the medbay himself. 

Alone, Megatron allowed himself to show real affection to his son, raising him slightly to rest his forehelm against the sparklings. He let the newspark scent fill his olfactories, and he closed his optics to seal the moment into his memory banks, before settling Libertas against his chest to let him rest. 

“One day, my son, you will become strong. You are my heir, and you will learn everything needed to lead. If I fall, you will take my place. And one day, when you can defeat me, I will send you after your traitor sire. And you will rip the Matrix from his chest, and you will be Libertas Prime, and lead Cybertron to freedom, for that is your name.”

This was not a wish. It was a vow, a promise.


End file.
